CHAPTER FORTY-THREE:  

THE CRUISE, PART ONE

	Christine pressed a crisp $5 bill into the 
outstretched palm of the young man who had delivered her 
luggage to her cabin.  I'll bet I'm going to be running 
into this one a lot during this cruise, she thought, as 
she took note of the fact that his eyes never left her 
chest throughout the transaction.  Over the months since 
The Accident and its subsequent physical manifestations, 
which had caused the opposite sex's interest in her to 
increase exponentially, Chris had learned to read the 
hormonally driven behaviors of men quite well.  She 
could tell, for example, that this fellow had already 
memorized her cabin number, was aware she was traveling 
alone, and judging from where his eyes were riveted, had 
not seen such a perfectly sized and shaped bustline as 
her own in several Miami-to-Montego Bay runs.  He was 
going to be trouble.  She was surprised at herself, 
however, to discover that she was amused and not put off 
by the porter's obvious gaping.  Well, maybe there's a 
little treat in store if he plays his cards right, she 
found herself thinking.  As she closed the door on him, 
she shook her head and said aloud, "I must really be 
getting into vacation mode."  Indeed, the stirrings she 
felt within as she entertained the notion of "treating" 
the porter were considerably stronger than usual.  
Reining in her libido, Chris decided to get familiar 
with her cabin.
	Sherri had taken care of all the arrangements and 
the arguing with Jeremy about the price.  Her 
intercession on Chris's behalf had netted Chris one of 
the better cabins on the uppermost passenger deck:  very 
spacious, comfortable, quiet, and well positioned away 
from the cramped, busier, less luxurious lower decks.  A 
perfect place for "entertaining", Chris thought.  As she 
began unpacking her luggage, she periodically paused to 
hold in front of her one of the new outfits she and 
Sherri had picked out for this trip.  She had packed 
nothing from her existing wardrobe; everything, right 
down to the racy Victoria's Secret lingerie, was going 
to be showing up on Jeremy's Gold Card next month.
	Last to come out of the suitcases was a small but 
powerful breast pump and attachments, safely ensconced 
in a fabric bag.  Although she could have chosen, 
through the use of her finely honed mental discipline, 
to shut down her milk production for the duration of the 
trip, she had decided instead that, if anything, she 
might try to increase it.  After all, this cruise line 
was famous for its onboard food, which was available 
nearly around the clock.  She figured she would eat as 
much and as often as she liked, and simply convert the 
excess calories into milk.  She hoped that she would 
meet at least one man during the three days it would 
take to reach Negril who would be willing to assist her 
in this regard.  The idea of "pumping and dumping" never 
did appeal much to her.
	By the time she had settled in, the "all ashore 
that's going ashore" announcement had been made and 
final preparations for casting off had been completed.  
Chris took her place at the rail, confetti and streamers 
in hand, and took part in the traditional "bon voyage" 
sendoff, even though there was no one she knew waving 
back from the pier.  The crowd at the railing was so 
thick that as it began to disperse, Chris found herself 
being jostled somewhat violently.  An errant elbow 
caught her in her left breast, not hard enough to be 
painful, but hard enough to make her realize how full 
and heavy her breasts were.  She realized that she had 
not thought to shut down her lactation during the long 
flight to Miami, the time at the airport, and the trip 
from there to the pier.  No wonder she was feeling 
tender!
	Chris returned to her cabin and jumped into the 
shower with the intent to relieve herself by performing 
her common practice of allowing the cascading hot water 
to intensify her already awesome letdown reflex.  Under 
normal circumstances, the feeling of the increased flow 
of milk blasting out of her nipples (at home she could 
probably send the spray fifteen feet or more if the 
shower wall weren't in the way) was enough for a 
satisfying orgasm even without strategically directing 
the flow from the shower head.  But when she walked into 
the small stall and noticed an unfamiliar type of 
faucet, she realized suddenly that she hadn't been away 
from home for an extended period since The Accident over 
a year before.  The strangeness of her surroundings 
detracted from her enjoyment of emptying her breasts 
somewhat, but she was still able to come twice from the 
directed spray on her clit, each time challenging the 
floor drain with the flood of juices pouring from her 
pussy.
	She moved from the bathroom into the main part of 
the cabin, enjoying the delicious feeling of walking 
around naked in a strange room.  She dressed for dinner, 
choosing a teal-and-white dress that was clingy and 
provocatively cut, and whose design allowed only a pair 
of French-cut panties as foundation.  She knew from 
examining a layout of the main dining room that her 
assigned table was quite close to the Captain's Table.  
In this outfit I should be able to catch the eye of an 
officer or two, Chris thought with a twinkle in her eye.  
I've never done it with a man in uniform before...  The 
thought made her breasts tingle anew.
	As she made her way along the ship's corridors, 
down the elevator, and toward the dining room, she was 
awestruck at the size of this vessel, the Carib Mermaid.  
She walked past the entrances to a nightclub that was at 
least as large as most of those she frequented on land; 
a casino rivaling those in Atlantic City for noise and 
sparkle; a well-equipped health club; a duty-free shop; 
two smaller dining areas; an arcade; a beauty shop and a 
myriad of other services.  The central "commons" area of 
the ship was several decks deep.  It resembled a small 
shopping mall or a gigantic hotel lobby, sporting a 
number of levels accessible by glass elevators.  This is 
one big damn boat, Chris marveled to herself.  Sherri 
sure knows how to pick 'em.
	There was a short line at the entrance to the 
surprisingly large main dining room as guests waited to 
be directed to their assigned tables.  Upon Chris's 
reaching the head of the line, a too-young crewmember 
escort waiting there broke into a wide grin, extended 
his crooked elbow into which Chris slipped her gloved 
hand, and personally escorted her to her table, which 
for the moment was still empty.  She noted with 
satisfaction that few other women were being given such 
preferential treatment.  In full hunting mode now, she 
used the time before the arrival of her tablemates to 
scan the room.  Sure enough, the Captain's Table was 
only a few feet away.  Several people, including a few 
officers, were already seated.   She must have been 
putting out pheromones like crazy into a favorable 
breeze, for the man she set her sights on, a fellow 
worthy of the cover of GQ whose uniform suggested fairly 
high rank, met her gaze within seconds of it alighting 
upon him.  He smiled broadly, his eyes crinkling 
slightly.  He raised his champagne glass to her, cocking 
his head as he did so.  Chris immediately felt her 
nipples straining at the flimsy fabric of her dress as 
she smiled back with all the lust she could muster 
without actually drooling on the tablecloth.  Jeez, she 
said to herself.  Reel it in, girl!  Who's running the 
show here, anyway, you or your glands?  She must have 
been frowning, for when her attention once again focused 
on her quarry, his attention had been diverted 
elsewhere.  She tried again to catch his eye, but in 
vain.  Dammit, she thought.  Why did you have to pick 
that moment to admonish yourself?  Now you've blown it!
	Within a few minutes the other occupants of 
Chris's table arrived.  They included an elderly couple 
whose bronze skins told of many years chasing the sun; a 
newlywed couple barely out of their teens who never 
stopped touching each other; and a third couple who 
looked like they were on a second honeymoon.  I'll need 
to have a talk with the cruise director, Chris said to 
herself in disappointment.  I'd have thought they'd seat 
us singles together.  She was just beginning to resign 
herself to eating her dinner in silence when she felt a 
light touch on her shoulder.  She looked up into the 
aquamarine eyes of the officer she'd been trying so hard 
to interest these last several minutes.
	"I don't mean to interrupt, but I couldn't help 
noticing that perhaps an error has been made here," he 
said in a rich New England baritone.
	"I'm sorry?" said Chris, not comprehending.
	"You appear to be traveling alone.  We usually try 
to seat singles at the same table so that they can meet 
each other."
	Not only is he gorgeous, but he can read minds 
too, thought Chris.
	She turned up the pheromones another notch and 
smiled blazingly.  "That's very kind of you to notice, 
but I don't mind at all," she lied.
	"Well, nevertheless, I'll be sure to speak to the 
cruise director and get you reseated.  In the meantime, 
I would be honored if you would join me at my table."  
He extended his hand in a very formal manner.
	Chris took it and fairly floated to her feet, 
letting one of the spaghetti straps of her dress fall 
off of one shoulder as she did so.  She allowed the 
officer to guide her toward the Captain's Table, one 
hand placed in the exposed small of her back.  She 
didn't even bother to say goodbye to the others at her 
table.
	As they arrived, Chris felt the eyes of the 
important-looking guests there move to her.  The men at 
the table rose to their feet.  The women tried to look 
indifferent.  Chris detected slightly raised eyebrows on 
one or two of them.  Mildly embarrassed, she smiled and 
tried valiantly to suppress the vigorous erection of her 
nipples brought on by the proximity of her target.  The 
officer pulled out the only other vacant chair at the 
table beside his own.  As he did so, he leaned in close 
to her and whispered quickly, "In my haste to correct 
the oversight, I neglected to ask your name.  I have to 
make your introduction and have no idea how to do it."
	"My name's Christine," she whispered back.
	"I'm Jonah Ballwin, Second Officer aboard the 
Mermaid," he returned.  "I'm charmed to meet you."
	Not as charmed as you're going to be, thought 
Chris.